


Keep Your Eyes On Me

by athena_crikey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Drama, Falling In Love, Insecurities, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Magical Realism, Noya is the biggest tease, Opposites attact, Rating May Change, Romance, UST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athena_crikey/pseuds/athena_crikey
Summary: The pipe fox tilts his furry head to the side. “What’s your name?” he asks.“Azumane. Azumane Asahi,” replies Asahi.“It sounds like what you need, Asahi-san, is a guardian spirit. Someoneyoucan rely on, when everyone else is relying on you.”
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	1. Meetings

It’s spring, and that means many things. Sakura season, school graduation, spring break. But also, inexorably, spring cleaning at the shrine.

Asahi’s used to it by now. It happens every year without fail, his mother and older sisters pulling him out of his nice warm bed to help clean out the store room. When he was a boy he was fascinated by the centuries of history packed into its old, dusty shelves. He dreamed of finding something really exciting, like a sword or a tengu nose preserved in spirits or an akashaguma pelt. All he’s ever actually found are gejigeji and moths. 

This year is different. It’s probably his last year at home, his last working the shrine and supporting his family. He’s already got plans to move to Tokyo when he graduates, already has his future prospects lined up – so long as he can survive third year. So for once, he rises without moaning and pulls on a worn pair of jeans and a hoodie and follows his sisters out to the wide dusty yard. Most mornings his sisters would be dressed in their white kimono and red hakama and would already be sweeping the grounds. Today, though, the shrine is closed. 

He follows his family to the store room and, like every year, helps them take out the tatami mats. They need to be turned over, but that will happen last after all the dust and cobwebs have been washed away. His sisters bring buckets of soap and water and rags, and he helps carry all the heavy boxes and casks out into the sunshine and line them up on tarps carefully laid on the ground and weighed along the edges by stones. When the store room is empty he sets about cleaning the centuries-old hoard of books and clothes and utterly unimportant relics. His family’s shrine has never had anything of worth, and their charms don’t work very well. 

While he’s cleaning, Asahi’s mind is on volleyball. It’s all he thinks about these days, less due to excitement then dread. With the graduation of the former third-years he’s now the team’s ace, is now expected to lead them to victory against teams like Date Tech and Aoba Johsai. Even the thought of standing up to them makes him shiver, makes his stomach turn over. Apart from Tanaka the second years aren’t very strong, and first years generally can’t be counted on. The offense will all be up to him, everyone’s attention firmly on him. He closes his eyes in dread as he picks up a box and the wooden lid slides out and clatters onto the ground. Asahi opens his eyes just in time to see an old wooden pipe tumble out, striking a stone at the corner of the tarp and rolling away. He winces and reaches out, picking it up. It’s about thirty centimeters long and two wide, intricately carved with curling designs. And now it’s cracked down the side. 

Strangely, it feels warm in his hand. He puts it down to the warm water he’s been using to wash the boxes and crates, and stands. His mother is in the storehouse beating down cobwebs with a broom, her hair tied up in a handkerchief. “Mom?”

She turns on the step-stool she’s standing on. Around her the light pouring in from the upper window is gold with dust. 

“I found this; it’s broken.” He holds it out to her; in the dirty light she peers at it. 

“Where was it?”

“In an old wooden box with a slide-lid. It’s nicely carved, but I don’t know what it’s for.” They have a catalogue somewhere, just an old ledger book with onion-skin-thin pages and faded ink. Many of the items aren’t well described, though, and many more are of dubious dates and origins. 

She rests her hand on her hip. “Can you fix it, do you think? It looks old; I’d hate to get rid of it.”

Asahi grew up handy at crafts – he can knit and cook, is decent at calligraphy and an excellent tailor. He intends to go into fashion in Tokyo after graduation. Now he looks down at the pipe. A little resin carefully applied could seal the crack. “I’ll try after lunch,” he says, and tucks it away in his pocket. 

For now, he still has the rest of the goods to wash.

  
***

It’s early afternoon before they’re done cleaning. Asahi finishes replacing all the now-spotless boxes and casks in the store house, then helps his sisters replace the tatami opposite-side up. The store house seems brighter, it certainly smells clean – all citrus and bleach.

His sisters start making lunch while he takes the pipe back to his room. He has a box of repair goods in his closet, and lifting it down he digs through it until he finds a small bottle of resin. He pulls on gloves, sets up the pipe on a piece of cardboard, and carefully pours the clear resin into the crack, smoothing it with another piece of cardboard until it has filled the crack and sealed it. It will take some time to dry; Asahi opens his window to let in the fresh air and goes down to lunch.

When he comes back an hour later, the pipe is lying waiting on his desk. He picks it up and runs his thumb over the crack; it’s no longer visible, the resin dry and smooth. He pulls out a handkerchief and some polish and cleans the pipe until it shines, the beautiful elaborate curls carved into it standing out all the more. They look almost like fire, a delicate, embellished kind of flames. 

“Thank goodness,” he says, sighing. 

“Thank goodness what?” asks a brassy voice. As he watches, a small furry head emerges from the end of the pipe. It pokes outwards on the end of a thin body, tiny ears pricked up and small beady eyes staring upwards. “Thank goodness you didn’t have to throw me out?”

Asahi yelps and drops the pipe. The tiny creature, long like a snake but straw-coloured and furry, swerves upwards and catches his arm, twining its way up. It’s the same length as the pipe, and as it stares at Asahi he can see the intelligence in its eyes. There’s almost no weight to its body, just a suggestion of warmth where it’s wrapped around him. “You’re… a pipe fox?” he asks, mouth dry.

“Oh, you’ve heard of me.” The little head bobs. “I guess I should be thanking you. This is the first time I’ve been out in centuries! And you did fix my pipe,” he adds, canting his head to the side. At least, Asahi assumes it’s a he. 

“Um, no – no problem,” stutters Asahi. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I should be asking you that!” replies the pipe fox, and although its small muzzle is stiff it somehow conveys a wide smile. “You did me a favour, after all. Is there something I can do for you?”

Asahi swallows. “In what way?” he asks carefully. He knows a little about deals with the supernatural. Knows that you have to be very, very careful before you start asking for wishes. Although as far as he knows pipe foxes are benign spirits – occasionally mischievous, but well-intentioned.

“I can do a lot,” says the little spirit, and for all that he’s extremely conscious of the need to be cautious, Asahi can’t help but feeling that it means well. It’s very exuberant for such a tiny creature; he can hear the passion and the fire in its voice. “I’m stronger than I look,” he adds. “If I can help you, I would be happy to.”

“Is there a price?” asks Asahi, frankly, a little bewildered. 

“A price?” the pipe fox’s tail twitches. “The price is that you can’t tell anyone about me. I don’t have time to be granting the whole world favours, you know! But you… for a big, handsome guy like you, I’d do it for free.” 

Asahi blushes. “Oh, um… well thank you. There is one thing, but I don’t know if you could help with it.”

“Try me,” urges the little spirit.

“You see… I’m in a club at school. The volleyball club. And actually, this year I’m supposed to be the team’s ace this year. That means everyone relies on me to score points and win games. But when everyone’s counting on me and watching me and expecting things from me… I’m not a confident person, fox spirit. I’m clumsy and quiet and nervous. I’m not cut out to be the ace. I don’t want you to make me different – I like being the way I am. And I don’t want to let anyone down. I just… I don’t want to have to be so afraid,” he finishes, pathetically. 

The pipe fox tilts his furry head to the side. “What’s your name?” he asks. 

“Azumane. Azumane Asahi,” replies Asahi.

“It sounds like what you need, Asahi-san, is a guardian spirit. Someone _you_ can rely on, when everyone else is relying on you.”

Asahi thinks to the team. To Daichi, who’s so busy trying to hold them all together and coach them at the same time. To Suga, who has never been first string before and is so caught up in perfecting his setting. To the newly minted second years, who haven’t come very far since the start of last year. The pipe fox is right; there’s no one he can really rely on to have his back on the team. “I guess so,” he admits. 

The little spirit nods energetically. “Then leave it to me. I’ll help you out. And until I’m done, please keep my pipe here. I can’t leave it if it’s back in the store house; the wards there are too strong.”

Asahi reaches down and picks the pipe up off the floor, places it on his desk. “Okay,” he says. The pipe fox blinks in what Asahi interprets to be pleasure.

“Great! Then I’ll see you tomorrow. And remember – this is our secret. If you tell anyone else, the spell will be broken.”

“Um,” begins Asahi, but the little fox has already whipped back inside its pipe. “Right,” he says, lost. 

“Asahi,” calls his mother from downstairs. “Time to go to the store!”

He gets up and, with a last glance at the pipe sitting innocently on his desk, turns and heads downstairs.

  
***

Asahi doesn’t know what he’s expecting the next morning at school. Maybe the first years will miraculously be stalwart and solid. Maybe Tanaka will have straightened up and learned to fly right. Maybe everyone will just have forgotten that he’s the ace, and he’ll be able to play without the pressure of their expectations.

Nothing seems different when he arrives to the gym that afternoon. There are two new first years – one’s incredibly tall and lanky, with curling blond hair and glasses, the other is just taller than average with freckles and a shy smile. Daichi and Suga are there too, as is Tanaka. The other second years haven’t arrived. 

“Oh, Asahi,” calls Suga. “Look at our new first years!” He announces it as if he were a fishmonger showing off his wares. 

Asahi looks across to them. “Only two?”

“Actually, there are two others. But Daichi has banned them from the gym – too uncooperative. They need to learn to work together.”

Asahi blinks. Already, Daichi is exerting the force of his expectations on the team. Asahi wonders what their new captain will expect from him – and whether he’ll be able to meet it. 

“Oh,” he says softly. 

“But at least one of them is a real find. The setter from Kitagawa First.”

“The mean, angry-looking one?” asks Asahi, remembering the middle-school tournament he had seen. The boy who had tossed expertly – and had torn his team apart. Suga grins.

“That’s the one! Great, right?” 

Asahi imagines having those dark, angry eyes watching him from the back line, boring into him, judging his every move. “Yeah, great,” he says, faintly. 

“Ahem!”

Asahi and Suga turn to the gym door. In the setting spring sun a short figure is standing in the doorway. A boy with a narrow frame, amber eyes, and spiked-up hair. The front of his hair has been bleached straw-blond. He strides into the gym like he belongs there, a piece of paper in his hands. 

Daichi comes over. “Oh, a new member?” he asks. 

“Just transferred in. I’m a second year – Nishinoya Yuu,” announces the small boy in a brassy, confident voice that sounds familiar. “Position: Libero,” he adds, handing his paper to Daichi. “You can count on me to watch your backs!”

And, looking to Asahi, he winks. 

Asahi stares at the boy. He’s short and slight where Asahi’s tall and muscular, his face fine-boned and his eyes sharp-edged where Asahi is all thick bones and soft lashes. And his name – Nishinoya Yuu; the complete opposite of Azumane Asahi. Is it a coincidence that this boy is in every way his foil? 

And his voice – that familiar, confident, brassy voice. So out of place in the tiny pipe-fox’s maw, and strange here too in this boy who can’t be more than 160 centimeters tall. And yet, he’s clearly utterly at ease, his smile breezy. Can this boy really be the pipe fox? True fox spirits are renowned for their impersonations and transformations, but he’s never heard of pipe foxes adopting disguises. 

“Well, well, a new second year,” growls a predatory voice. Asahi breaks out of his confused thoughts as Tanaka prowls over, face twisted into a fierce expression, territorial as a junkyard dog. “Fresh meat, eh?”

Nishinoya grins, a wide, dangerous smile. _This boy is wild_ , thinks Asahi. For all his small stature and shining eyes, there’s an edge to him. “I heard you needed some help,” he replies, hands on his hips, unintimidated.

“Oh yeah? And you think you’re up to it, pipsqueak?”

“I can save any spike you can make, Buddha-boy,” replies Nishinoya. 

“Eh? What’s that I hear?” Tanaka leans closer, holding a hand to his ear. “Did I hear you challenging me?”

“Sure did. And I’ll throw in your ace as well.” He looks at Asahi, and for just a moment Asahi detects a twinkle of amusement in his amber eyes. He swallows. 

Tanaka turns to the two boys practicing tosses on the far side of the net. “Clear off, first years! It’s time for a blood bath! Suga-san, you’ll toss, right?”

Suga glances at Daichi, who shrugs. Asahi can read the message clear enough: _Let Tanaka get it out of his system_. “Sure,” the setter answers, and heads over to the net. Tanaka follows him, waving to Asahi as he goes. 

“Come on, Asahi-san. Let’s show the new kid what we can do.”

Asahi steps onto the court; Nishinoya slaps his shoulder on his way by, running over to the far side of the net. He’s grinning. 

Volleyball is a team sport, six on six. Seeing one lone player on the court makes him appear even smaller than he is, makes him appear somehow lacking. But Nishinoya shows no signs of fear; he’s utterly confident as he takes his place in the centre of the back line, shedding his black gakuran jacket to reveal a plain white t-shirt. Asahi and Tanaka take their places in front of the net; Daichi comes to toss for Suga while the two first years stand by, watching. 

“Ready?” asks Daichi of Suga, who nods. He tosses the ball; Suga hops to meet it, and Asahi can see from his eyes that it’s for Tanaka, but he jumps all the same. Tanaka leaps, whips his arm around and slams the ball down towards the far corner. 

Nishinoya moves like greased lightning. He’s in flight the instant Tanaka connects, anticipating the trajectory of the ball. He lungs, arm outstretched, and catches the ball on his wrist, sending it flying upwards in a receive that any of them could easily have followed up on. He lands in a tight roll, arms held close to his body to avoid injury, and then pops up gracefully into a standing position.

It’s an athletic performance, but more than that it’s an instinctive one. Asahi can tell that his movements weren’t planned, they were reactionary. And yet even in the less than a second of time he had to react, he moved in exactly the correct manner. Excellent instincts. Perhaps even supernaturally good. 

Asahi smiles, while Tanaka snorts. “This time, you’ll see what our ace can do!” he points at Asahi. 

“Maa, Tanaka,” Asahi mumbles, smoothing down his hair. 

“Okay Asahi?” asks Suga. He takes a deep breath, focuses himself, and nods.

Daichi throws the ball to Suga, who tosses it to Asahi. Asahi’s already leaping, throwing himself into the spike, using all the coiled power in his muscles to strike the ball directly at Nishinoya. He’s not trying to make the boy miss; he wants to see whether he can receive a full-strength spike. 

He connects cleanly and the ball flies through the air like a missile. Nishinoya bends supplely, bringing his arms together with a relaxed kind of focus, only his eyes intense. He catches the ball perfectly on his forearms, giving it upwards momentum to counter the spin, and it rockets up within the court boundaries. A perfect receive. 

“Nice receive,” say both Suga and Daichi, both clearly impressed. Suga elbows Tanaka, who grudgingly adds, “Nice receive,” tweaking his nose. 

Nishinoya trots forward and ducks under the net. “Your spikes were both wicked. That one to the boundary was real tough,” he says, and grins at both Tanaka and Asahi. Asahi smiles as Tanaka pulls himself up, preening a little. “So am I in?” Nishinoya asks, looking at the third years.

Daichi smiles. “Definitely,” he says.

  
***

They spend the rest of the afternoon doing drills – tosses, serves, spikes, receives. By the end of it Tanaka and Nishinoya have somehow gone from adversaries to teammates, cheering each other on as they make good plays. Perhaps it helps that Nishinoya is in no way a rival to Tanaka – liberos don’t spike or score points. He’s a support, not a threat.

And he _is_ a support – a great one. They play 2 on 2 rounds, Asahi and Nishinoya vs Suga and Tanaka, and having Nishinoya at his back gives him a feeling of relief that nothing else ever has. He quickly learns that he doesn’t need to look to know Nishinoya’s following the ball as it comes over the net, is in place to receive it and set it up for Asahi. He rarely misses, and even when Suga or Tanaka block Asahi’s spikes he’s ready to receive the blow-back and go again. 

“You ready?” asks Asahi as he prepares to serve, and Nishinoya smiles toothily, his eyes shining. 

“I’ve got your back,” he replies. 

Asahi feels a bright burst of confidence in his chest, something new. Something he hasn’t felt before. He connects with the ball and hits a clean service ace, Daichi praising him from the sidelines. 

“Thanks,” he tells Nishinoya.

  
***

After practice they return to the club room to change. Nishinoya doesn’t have athletic wear, has been playing in his uniform; Daichi tells him to make sure to bring it tomorrow and he nods, eyes flicking to Asahi. Tanaka’s asking him about his family, where he lives; Nishinoya makes vague answers and turns the questions back on Tanaka.

When they’re done they head out together, the night already fallen. Nishinoya follows Asahi as he splits off from the group, waving at the others as they continue on down the hill towards Minamikarasuno. 

Only when they’re out of sight on the way to the bus stop does Nishinoya pause. 

“What –” begins Asahi, and then he takes a sharp step back as the boy bursts into pale blue flames. There’s no heat from them, nor any smoke; they flare and billow in a stylized way, almost more like stage props in a kabuki play than real fire. Then they’re gone, and in their place is the pipe fox, lunging forward and snaking up Asahi’s sleeve. “Hey – you – _what?_ ”

“Asahi-san!” exclaims the pipe fox, twining itself around his arm, his straw-coloured fur rippling in the evening breeze. “Are you impressed? Did I do a good job? I’ve never played this volleyball before – it was fun!”

“You… never…” says Asahi faintly. 

“Nah. But I’m a wicked-fast learner. See how well I’ve picked up your modern tongue,” he adds, nodding vigorously. 

“You did a great job,” he says warily. “I wasn’t expecting… that is…” but truth be told, he doesn’t know what he was expecting. 

“This is so much more exciting than hibernation dreams. Do you want me to come back? I will – I want to!”

Asahi looks down at it. At its tiny eyes and its pricked-up ears and its delicate snout. This little creature is one in the same as Nishinoya. Nishinoya who for the first time made him feel really <  
 _confident_ on the court. He doesn’t want to lose that. Not yet. “I want you to,” he says honestly. “I do. But… is it right? I mean, you’re using magic to help me. If you join the team, we’ll have an advantage. It would be cheating.”

The little fox cants its head to the side thoughtfully. “The form I chose was made by magic,” he agrees, “But I used only its inherent abilities – human reflexes and muscles – to play. Surely that’s not cheating.”

This feels like shaky moral ground. But the pipe fox is wriggling happily against Asahi’s black jacket, his tiny eyes pleading. And surely it won’t hurt just for a while. They’re not even playing real games yet.

“Okay,” he says. “Stay for a while. We really do need a libero, after all.”

The pipe fox nuzzles its face against his bicep, a soft, warm sensation. “You’re great, Asahi-san. I’ll make it my job to show you that!”

Asahi blushes. He doesn’t know if he’s doing the right thing, if he’s even doing a _legal_ thing. But he does know that it’s what he wants. 

“Let’s go home,” he says to the pipe fox, and sets off for the bus stop.


	2. Different

It’s dark outside – has been dark for hours, the early April sun setting before practice finished. In the headlights of the few cars driving past the pipe fox gleams like autumn wheat, his fur rippling in the light breeze. Asahi arrives at the bus stop and looks down at him, twisted around Asahi’s upper arm with his head resting just above Asahi’s collarbone. 

“You can’t come onto the bus like that.”

“Bus?” says the pipe fox, blinking curiously. “What’s a bus?”

Asahi looks into the distance and sees the orange and white municipal bus coming closer. “That is,” he answers, anxiety peaking. “Please – get in my bag.” He reaches down to unzip the end of his bag. And, as his collar gapes open, the pipe fox wriggles up and slips in under it. His fur is soft and downy against Asahi’s naked skin, the sensation of it against his chest and stomach feather-like. Asahi doubles over as the tail tickles his sides. “St-st-stop that,” he gasps, trying to pin the pipe fox down. 

The pipe fox squirms upwards, tiny head poking out of the open collar of Asahi’s gakuran. “You’re very warm,” he reports happily, nuzzling Asahi’s throat.

“Please don’t do that,” says Asahi weakly, overwhelmed by the feeling of the tiny supernatural being nestled so close against his chest. 

“Why not? Humans like to keep small cute things close. Look at your dogs and cats.”

“You’re different.”

“How? I’m small and cute,” pouts the pipe fox. 

“It’s different,” insists Asahi, but the bus arrives before he has the time to work out exactly how. He pulls his collar closed and gets on the bus, swiping his card over the reader. He heads to an empty seat towards the back and slouches, very aware of the pipe fox’s warmth curled over his heart. 

The bus starts up, motor rumbling. And, slowly, the pipe fox’s head pokes out over the top of his collar. Asahi, sweating furiously, tries to push the furry head back down. But the little fox squirms neatly free and looks out the window as the scenery rolls by. “Hm,” he says quietly, contemplatively. “A bus.”

“Please go back to hiding,” whispers Asahi, hands clenched on his sports bag’s strap so tightly the plastic cuts into his palms. 

“But I want to see.”

“And if someone sees you, then what?” hisses Asahi. “Please, just… hide.” He pushes the pipe foxes head back below the line of his collar, the fox reluctantly shrinking down. 

Thank God it’s only a 15 minute bus ride.

  
***

“Next time,” declares the pipe fox when they get off, squirming free of the constraints of Asahi’s jacket and curling loosely around his shoulders, “I’ll ride as Yuu.” He’s gleaming a buttery colour in the light filtering down from the streetlamp, his fur shining.

Asahi smiles gently, turning and heading towards his house. “And how will you pay?”

“Oh, money.” The pipe fox flicks its tail dismissively. “That hasn’t bothered me in centuries. It’s not just _my_ nature that I can change, you know.”

Asahi wonders about that. Wonders what else the pipe fox could create, could alter. Wonders whether he could change Asahi himself. But then, he doesn’t want to change. He’s happy being Azumane Asahi. It’s confidence he lacks, not self-worth. He’s always known what he’s good at and appreciated it – it’s just that putting himself in the limelight isn’t one of those things.

But that’s what Nishinoya Yuu’s for. 

He reaches the stone stairway leading up to the shrine, stairs he’s climbed every day for as long as he can remember. The trees bordering them are still slumbering, their branches bare. But they’ll be bursting into bud soon, will be green with life. Sometimes the stairway seems insurmountable, seems endless, his legs burning as he climbs. Other days like today, he’s at the top before he really notices he’s been ascending. 

There are a few visitors in the shrine grounds; Asahi skirts around the edge towards the house on the corner of the property. It’s old, of course, but well repaired. His mother had brought the shrine to her marriage, his father the money of an entrepreneur. 

The house is quiet when he enters. Very conscious of the fox perched on his shoulders he sneaks upstairs to his room, crossing to his desk. “You can get down now,” he says apprehensively, tapping the surface of his desk where the pipe fox’s pipe sits. The fox slithers down his arm and curls up on the table, his head resting on the coils of his long furry body. 

Asahi pulls his dirty clothes out of the sports bag to throw in the wash and produces his homework, putting it down on the desk next to the fox. “If you were so interested in seeing my trip home, why didn’t you stay as Nishinoya?” he asks.

The pipe fox looks up at him, blinking. “It takes a lot of energy to stay in that form, even more to hold it while absorbing all the knowledge I needed to play volleyball with you. I was tired. Why?” His voice turns coy, head to one side. “Do you miss Yuu, Asahi-san? He’s rather handsome, is he not?”

Asahi blushes fiercely. “He’s just an illusion!”

“No – he is real. Flesh and blood. See?” There’s a surge of fire on the desk, and then Nishinoya is sitting there, legs crossed and arms back to support his weight. 

He’s buck naked. 

Asahi goggles, tripping backwards. “Why – why – _why_ are you naked?”

Nishinoya tilts his head to the side, the movement reminiscent of the pipe fox’s lithe cant. “Clothes are a function of society, Asahi-san,” he replies with a bold smile.

“I’m part of society,” he says faintly. He can’t help but take in the libero’s smooth, pale skin and firm, toned chest. Despite his diminutive size he’s well-built, strong and healthy. Asahi’s eyes track down from his sharp face to the faintly dimpled line of his sternum to his navel, dropping even lower, his heart racing, to – no. He looks away, turning to one side, ears burning and face hot. 

“You’re _different_ ,” replies Nishinoya grinning, throwing his earlier words back at him. “I’m naked when I’m a fox, you know,” he adds, and then raises one hand as if to admire his nails. “And look what a good job I did! No claws, no fangs…” He runs his thumb over his white, human teeth, showing them off to Asahi. “You should appreciate me!” He jumps off the desk, arms and legs spread wide.

Asahi nearly faints, although not before his traitorous eyes take in the whole picture. Barely regaining control, he spins sideways into his closet and pulls out one of his button-up school shirts. He returns and pulls it down forcefully over Nishinoya’s head, the little libero struggling to find the sleeves. When it’s fully on him the hem falls halfway down his thighs, the sleeves swamping his delicate hands and the collar hanging open crookedly over one shoulder. 

It is, Asahi thinks, possibly the most adorable thing he has ever seen. 

Nishinoya raises a hand, the tips of his fingers barely emerging from the wide sleeve. Slowly, while Asahi watches, he pulls the cotton sleeve to his nose and sniffs. He looks up over the top of it, his amber eyes pleased. “Smells like you,” he says, eyes shining. 

Suddenly it’s no longer adorable – it’s arousing. Very arousing. 

Asahi swallows thickly. “I – um – have some chores to do,” he stutters. And then, before Nishinoya can object, he turns and runs out, slamming the door behind him and leaning on it. He stays there until he catches his breath, heartbeat calming. 

_He is a supernatural entity hundreds of years old. He is not human. And he is not handsome as hell_ , he tells himself. _Not even a little._

He’s all too aware, though, that his wayward heart isn’t listening.

  
***

Asahi does in fact have some chores to do, and by skulking around in the kitchen he earns himself the responsibility of helping his mother with dinner, which keeps him downstairs for most of the evening. It’s late by the time he returns to his room, his confidence reinforced from hours of mental preparation.

But when he throws open the door, expecting to find Nishinoya cavorting half-naked through the bedroom, all he finds is silence. He tiptoes in, looking around, and catches sight of his shirt lying on the floor. He picks it up carefully, but there’s no sign of the pipe fox. He crosses to his desk and carefully picks up the pipe, but it too is empty. 

Asahi straightens and turns around once, even as he wonders what’s happened – did the fox leave? Is he hiding? Did he return to his hibernation?

Then he spots a patch of wheat-gold on his pillow. He sneaks across the room to his bedside and looks down.

The pipe fox is curled on his pillow, asleep. His fur is rippling softly as he breathes, his tiny eyes closed tight. Asahi strangely wants very much to feel his fur, to run his fingers over it, to bury them in it. 

But that’s ridiculous. 

So he turns instead, returns to his desk, and takes a seat while pulling his homework closer. Picking up his pencil, he opens his English exercise book.

  
***

It’s past eleven when Asahi finishes studying for the night. The day feels even longer after the two week spring vacation; motivation is hard to find, especially when he doesn’t intend to go to university. But his parents insist he keep up his grades, that he maintain options even when he already knows he’s going to go to fashion school next year, and he’s always been a dutiful son.

He’s already in his sleeping clothes, the family baths finished hours ago and his sisters asleep. He turns out his desk light and crosses to his bed. “Pipe fox?” he says, quietly, to the tiny creature curled up on his pillow. It doesn’t respond. “Pipe fox?” he repeats, louder.

No response.

Asahi reaches out and slowly, carefully, strokes one finger over the top of its smooth head. It shivers, fur fluffing up, and then its tiny eyes open. “Mmm, Asahi-san?”

“I’m going to bed. Shouldn’t you be in your pipe?”

The little fox snorts. “I’ve been sleeping in there for centuries. I want to stretch out!” He uncoils and re-coils in the opposite direction. 

“Well you can’t sleep there, that’s my pillow.”

“Oh, do you need it?” The pipe fox’s voice is teasing.

“Yes,” sighs Asahi. It’s late and he’s tired. “I need it.”

“Alright then!” The little fox slithers down off his pillow and into the bed, lying on his clean sheets. “I’ll sleep here.”

He should protest. He should definitely not be sharing his bed with a supernatural entity, even one as apparently benign as the pipe fox. But he is very certain that, if it comes to stamina, the fox can out-last him in any argument. So he turns off the ceiling light, pulls back the covers, and gets into bed.

“Don’t get crushed,” he says, lying down. For a moment he lies still and silent, wondering what exactly he’s gotten himself into. Then the little fox presses up against his arm, light as a feather and soft as a kitten.

“Good night, Asahi-san,” he whispers sleepily.

  
***

The pipe fox is gone when he wakes up in the morning, and when Asahi checks his pipe there’s a warm weight to it that lets him know he’s inside. He packs up his school things and a new clean set of practice clothes, and finally after some thought slips in the pipe.

The pipe fox sleeps through breakfast and the bus ride to school, and then through Asahi’s classes. Asahi’s starting to wonder how he’s going to get the little fox to come out for practice, but when he arrives at the club room to change he finds Nishinoya already there, rough-housing with Tanaka. Somehow, the pipe fox slipped out of his bag without his noticing. 

Today Nishinoya is wearing practice clothes – a white t-shirt and black shorts. Clearly he learned the expectations yesterday. Daichi and Suga show up and get changed as well, and they head over to the gym in a group. 

They have a meeting, sitting cross-legged on the cold gym floor, and Daichi explains his plans to invite the Community Association in for a real game for the first years, as they don’t have enough players otherwise. Asahi’s never played the Community Association but he knows they’re mostly recent grads from Karasuno, some even from the era when Karasuno was considered a powerhouse team. His heart gives a little lurch. Beside him, Nishinoya punches him in the arm. “Lighten up, ace,” he mutters, smiling. 

For the first time it occurs to him just how insightful the pipe fox must be – or perhaps it’s his preternatural awareness that tells him Asahi is nervous. Either way he rubs his arm and grins back awkwardly. 

Then it’s time to warm up.

  
***

They pair up for serve and receive drills, Asahi and Nishinoya partnered at the far end of the gym. As with yesterday the libero easily scoops up even his best serves, returning them neatly and sometimes even flamboyantly. Asahi has the sense that Nishinoya’s eyes are on more than him – he’s watching the other players as they warm up; Daichi and Suga, Tanaka and Ennoshita, the two first years. They’re comfortable, easy partnerships, each used to the other. Nishinoya is the newest member and there should be some friction, but he fits in easy as a puzzle piece, smooth as a river rock. Even when they rotate through the pairings, Asahi watching Nishinoya more than he should be, the libero matches his partner easily.

“Good, isn’t he?” says Daichi to Asahi, his current partner. Asahi looks back and catches Daichi watching him, smiling. 

“Oh – um – well, yes. He is. Really good.”

“You two seem to be getting along already. You’ve never had a strong libero to work with; it’s a good opportunity. An ace needs a libero to shine.”

“You’re right. I mean – you’ve been so strong on defense, and I appreciate it, but…”

“It’s different having someone dedicated to watching your back. I get it,” says Daichi, bouncing the ball. “But don’t forget, Asahi, the libero needs the ace to shine too. You’re no more dependent on him than he is on you.”

Asahi shifts weakly. “I guess.”

“You mean ‘I know’!” replies Daichi, tossing the ball up and hitting an intense serve at Asahi, who barely manages to return it, shoe squeaking as he stumbles. “Don’t be putting yourself down, Ace.” 

“R-right…”

“Asahi-saaaan! Chance ball!” shouts someone from the other side of the court; a rebound comes flying at him. He reacts without thinking, spiking it into the floorboards. “Nice kill!”

It’s Nishinoya, grinning and giving him a thumb’s up. 

“So cool, Noya-san! Asahi-san!” calls Tanaka. Asahi just stares at the libero. Wonders whether that was a planned distraction, or pure chance. 

Somehow he doesn’t have the impression that the pipe fox leaves much to chance.

  
***

They play a few 4 on 4 games, rotating the teams after each set. Asahi plays with Nishinoya two out of three games, the libero’s presence behind him strong and reassuring. He’s intense, loud between plays and completely focused when the ball comes to him, his amber eyes shining in the gym’s bright fluorescents. Hungry for victory – but Asahi’s not sure that his definition of victory is the same as the libero’s.

He throws himself into his plays with a thoughtless ferocity Asahi hasn’t seen from other players, rolling and tumbling and skidding across the floorboards, all sweat and skin and bruises. He laughs everything off, laughs off the dives and the impacts and the misses. But when he looks at Asahi his eyes are all eagerness and passion, unrelenting, unremitting.

The force of his personality, his dedication, shocks Asahi. Makes him hot under the skin, makes him itch at the back of his knees like spring sweat and summer mosquitos. 

_A Guardian Spirit_ , the pipe fox had said. Well, no Guardian Spirit would do things halfway. 

“Nice save, Nishinoya,” says Suga after a particularly hard dive when the libero comes up smiling, rubbing at his head. 

“Thanks,” says Nishinoya, but he’s looking at Asahi.

Asahi opens his mouth to say something, anything, but his mouth is too dry, his palms too hot, his mind too full of the libero’s sunny smile. 

“You,” he manages, and then dries up. Nishinoya grins, jogging his arm.

“Me? Amazing? Wonderful? Totally awesome?”

_All those things_ , Asahi wants to say. But he’s aware that he’s treading on dangerous ground, is starting to give way in the face of the pipe fox’s repeated attempts to attract his attention. So: “Nice kill,” is all he says, softly. 

Nishinoya sticks his tongue out at him.

  
***

They get changed after practice and walk to the bus stop together, branching out from the rest of the team. “You need to slow down,” says Asahi.

Nishinoya turns his face up to look at the ace. “We’re walking at the same pace,” he points out.

“No – I mean – you. You’re so... _intense_. The way you look at me, the way you play up to me. The way you make me – make me want…” he swallows.

The libero grins. “Oh, you _did_ notice, Asahi-san!”

“You know I did. But I’m just a high school student, and you’re a… a –”

“An incredible magical being bestowing a gift upon you?” asks the libero.

“A _tease_ ,” says Asahi; Nishinoya stares at him, then bursts out laughing. “But yes, also ancient and supernatural and beyond my comprehension. I don’t want a relationship with something eldritch, pipe fox.”

“It would be fun,” promises the libero, digging his elbow into Asahi’s side. “I like you, you know. You’re big and kind and thoughtful and not at all self-absorbed. I would be good to you.”

Asahi blushes. “Thank you. But I just don’t think it’s a good idea. At all,” he adds, with as much force as he can manage. “I’m grateful that you’re granting my wish, but I’m not looking for romance.”

“I see.” The libero looks into Asahi’s eyes and he sees thoughtfulness there, and hurt. Asahi swallows. “I think I will return in my pipe,” he says. And before Asahi can say anything blue flames shoot up. Nishinoya disappears and the pipe fox returns, snaking into Asahi’s bag and digging down until he finds his pipe. 

“I’m sorry,” says Asahi softly. He has no idea if the little creature hears him.


End file.
